Gas Station Ghost Hunters
by Lokadottir
Summary: Trouble had followed Ophelia her whole life, but it didn't help much that she ran right into its open arms. It was about time that she learned to quell her own fires.
1. Chapter 1

Night fell like a blanket of darkness over the entire town. It was small, somewhere between a city and the suburbs, surrounded on three sides by and expansive forest. Ophelia wouldn't have chosen to live here, but it really wasn't her choice.

At this point in time, she had been working for the foundation for over a year. They moved her around every so often to follow rumours and urban legends, internet horror stories that may or may not be real. The type of things you tell around a campfire or send to your friends to freak them out. Her job was to investigate such things, determine if it really is an abnormal occurrence, and, if so, figure out how to contain it. The job was usually easy. Many things were proven fake within the first week. But not this one.

PSCP-0X266 Codename: The Slenderman. The tall figure had plagued her life, both in the physical plane and the world of dreams, for as long as she could remembered. And if she could find it, maybe she could finally start to figure everything out.

The night was cold. Marie had reminded Lia to wear a coat about a billion times that day, and now her housemate was locked up in her room, working on some great scientific discovery. Ophelia didn't even bother telling them that they were going out that night. They both had built up some sort of weird routine since they moved in. The day passed normally enough. Filled with paperwork, research, and large amounts of caffeine. Every night Marie would hole herself up in her room. She SWORE she was on to some huge scientific breakthrough. It was something new every month, sometimes every week, but her enthusiasm never diminished no matter how futile the research seemed. A smile tugged at the corners of Lia's lips as she thought of this. In a way she could understand. When she got into a case, she met each challenge with the same enthusiasm.

While her housemate was doing whatever it is the scientists do in their bedroom, Lia would prepare herself for that night's outing. Backpack on, boots tied tightly, flash light, camera, and radio all attached to various belt loops. It had taken her a while to figure out the best setup for 'Slender hunting', as she dubbed it. The learning process had cost her many a lost cameras and major blackouts.

The awaiting darkness of the forest was not at all what one would call inviting. But being only a few yards away from her back door, Lia did not exactly have time to register fear. Anxiety, maybe, but this setting had become strangely familiar to her. Woods are easy. Structurally sound, if a little maze like. Crumbling buildings were something that scared the young woman. Never know how many bones you can break when you fall through molded rafters. The most Lia usually had to worry about from the woods was tripping.

Before entering the pitch darkness of the woods, Lia flipped on her camera and attached the flashlight. After making sure she was recording, she began walking and talking.

"Agent Ophelia Asphodel investigating PSCP-0X266, The Slenderman. No sightings yet. Local rumors place him in and around these woods. Further investigation needed." Almost as if punctuating this, her radio sprang to life. Static filled her ears, and she silently cursed and turned it down a bit. Something was close. Before the move she had assessed the area and made sure there were no electrical interferences that would affect her research.

Most people would run if their brand new radio spit static at them. Ophelia trekked forward, attempting to pinpoint where the interference was emanating from. It moved. She would begin walking in one direction, before the radio would quiet and she was forced to turn and start in the other direction. Each change in location made the girl curse to herself.

"It can never be easy, can it?"

Her question was met with another bout of static, and she was thrown backwards. Her back and head collided with the trunk of a large tree that stretched into the inky blackness above. She recovered her camera from the ground after getting herself to the feet and assessed it for damage. Everything appeared to be in working order. She cast the light around the area before her eyes finally fall on the tree she had been thrown into.

"Son of a..." She trailed off, not even thinking of a curse creative enough for this situation. Pinned in the bark of a tree was a crumbled, hastily drawn note depicting a tall figure and four simple words.

'Always watches, no eyes.'

She carefully removed the note from the tree and shrugged her bag onto the ground. She fiddled around with the contents for a while before withdrawing a rather large evidence bag, slipping the note inside, and then sealing it again and wedging it within the pages of a rather large binder.

The static started again. Louder. Closer. She could hear her own blood pound through her body. How had it gotten so close? Lia shouldered her bag hastily and whipped her camera around, searching for the familiar figure that had stalked her so many times before. The light of the flashlight caught on something between the trees, but when she returned it there the figure had already left.

Another bought of static, screeching unholy sounds at the tense girl. And then he was behind her. Tentacles encircled her limbs. She struggled in vain against the creature. Within seconds she was lightheaded and close to unconsciousness. Before she blacked out completely she heard a voice.

"It is not your time yet."

The sun beat down on a limp form at the outskirts of the forest. Ophelia groaned as her body slowly started returning back to itself, the weight of sleep still making her limbs feel heavy. Within seconds she had realized she was on the ground, with her camera placed beside her, entirely unharmed. The girl sat up quickly, becoming lightheaded and upsetting various papers that had been covering her body like a makeshift blanket. Each note book page bore the same word.

"Run."

The notion earned the nonpresent writer a sneer. "As fucking if." She collected the pages in her arms before finally getting up. Behind her was the forest, in front of her the house. Nothing to do but go wake up Marie and look over the tape from last night.

From the woods the tall man watched as the girl made it into the house. Then he was gone.


	2. P-SCP-3199: Jeffery Woods

The hours between dusk and dawn is a time for play. It's when nightmares come alive, stalking into your houses and making all your worst fears come true. Clowns, faceless horrors, emaciated entities, serial killers, ghosts. They thrive best when the night comes.

A young man tromped through the woods. He made no effort to quiet himself. Although his face was already contorted into a horrific chelsea smile, he grinned further. The sight was gruesome.

He was thin, but wiry. If you were to undress him, you could quite obviously make out muscle beneath his scarred flesh. Copious amounts of blood has stained his mouth and chin. It had even dripped onto his already filthy hoody. A ghastly sight, by any means.

A bloodied knife was in his hands. He was gripping the handle so tightly his knuckles would turn white, if he wasn't already so pale.

Weeks earlier he located a string of abandoned houses in an already shitty neighborhood. No one noticed him enter or leave. But people did notice the animals. Mutilated corpses, left scattered across lawns and strung up in trees. The smell of decay had taken hold of the neighborhood. No one drove past anymore. Those who lived on their street either spent all their time away, or had long since barricaded their doors. Some could sense the evil that had invaded their neighborhood, but were too scared or unsure to stop it.

Jeffrey returned to the dilapidated homestead he had chosen for himself. He saw it like he saw himself; scarred and beautiful. They were a perfect match.

He threw himself on the filthy couch left behind by the previous inhabitants, whoever they were. With smile still plastered on his face, he sleeps.

Ophelia detested sleep. It always took her to the same place.

Wallpaper curls as flames lick the walls like an old lover. The smell of smoke permeated the air, gagging the young child. It was all so _real._ Like it was happening right then. Like it was happening _again._ Every night, without fail, the tragedy of her childhood played out like a horror movie hosted in a theater that she could never just walk out of.

Until she wakes up.

She didn't scream. She learned not to scream a long time ago. Her eyes flew open and scrambled to find purchase in the world of consciousness. She needed to catch sight of something familiar.

Her computer sat across from her. It's cooling fans whirred softly in the corner of her room. ' _Good.'_ She could feel the sheet stick to her back from sweat. ' _Very good.'_ The clothes that she had discarded the night before still lay on the floor. They would be far too big for her if she was truly the child in her dream.

"I'm here, I'm safe, I'm fine."She mumbled this over and over under her breath. It's the mantra a therapist once told her. Simple words to repeat if she ever found herself stuck in a flashback. She would never admit that it worked.

Her breathing began to calm and, finally, she was able to pull herself into a sitting position. At some point during the night she had struggled out of her hoodie, which was now tangled up in the comforter. She wrestled it away from the blanket and pulled it over her head, further mussing up her already messy hair. It was way too early to worry about looking good, in her honest opinion. The only person who was likely to see her was probably at work by now anyway. Not that she would care. Marie had seen Ophelia at her worst. She was partially the cause for some of those times, a fact the young woman was sure her housemate was not too keen to remember. Ophelia was not sure _she_ wanted to remember it, either. She would have liked to think that they were always this close, that Marie was a genuinely nice person with a good soul, but dark things lurked the behind the French woman's eyes.

While thinking about this, Ophelia realized that not only had she made it to the kitchen, but that she had been staring at the hot pot of coffee for god knows how long. Had Marie even left yet, or did she leave the pot here for Lia? She didn't see the Marie's briefcase anywhere so it must have been the latter.

The young woman was not entirely sure if the amount of caffeine she regularly consumed was entirely healthy, nor did she exactly care. It's possibly the only way she was able to continue functioning. She added a shit ton of sugar and some milk into the cup, watching as small droplets splash out and onto the counter. She decided she'd take care of the mess later. With cup in hand and a granola bar, she made her way back upstairs to check the emails no doubt sitting on her computer.

"What's on the agenda for today?" She mumbled to herself as she turned on the monitor. The browser was still open from last night. All she had to do was open up a new tab and access her company email.

The software was made specifically for those working at the foundation. It's run off strictly private servers, nearly unhackable. The emails addressed directly towards her were placed at the top, followed by the mass delivered ones that reached everyone at her branch. Most of the notices she got never applied to her. They were warnings and alerts for those that work on site. She checked them anyway, knowing that Marie would have to face a majority of the threats head on. She liked to know that she wouldn't be coming home to find out that her roommate had been maimed or killed. Every now and then someone would mass email everyone in the entire compound something that was supposed to be private, which was always hilarious. No such luck today. Looks like she would have to catch up with the drama the old fashioned way next time she made it up to the hq.

Red lettering caught her eyes immediately. 'Urgent.' It was at the top of her list, above everything else. She groaned, knowing that meant that she was going to have to put actual effort into whatever insane mission they were about to send her on, and begrudgingly clicked the email.

The letter was from one of the guys stationed seemingly permanently in their cubical in hq. Ophelia wasn't even sure what, exactly, it was that they did, besides deliver the decrees of their oh so benevolent dictator. They were the spitting image of smarmy business types. Suits, briefcases, perfectly shined shoes. They seem content with their job, happy even. She guessed she could understand that, considering they never have to actually face the things the foundation worked with.

The contents of the letter is worrying to say the least;

"P-SCP-3199

Name: Jeffery Woods

Known Alias': Jeff the Killer

Description: Subject is reported to be a pale humanoid of average height. Open wounds resembling that of the well known "Glasglow Smile" cut across his face, presumed to be self inflicted. Suffers from severe burns that cover his entire body in patches. Lacks a nose. Shows inhuman strength, even after suffering grievous injuries. The subject reportedly was assaulted and burned alive. They survived the attack despite extensive damage to muscle and nervous tissue. They went on to kill their family, mutilating them in a similar way to himself. Has escaped captivity by police forces multiple times only to kill again. Words are often found on the walls in the homes of his victims saying things such as "Go To sleep" and "Beautiful."

Crimes fitting this description have begun to occur within your stationed town, Agent Leyder. Attached are local news reports and police files on them. Please investigate them posthaste. Your report is due Friday.

[Redacted]"

Friday? What the _fuck?_ That was in three days.

It had taken her almost all of her allotted time to track down the asshole known as 'Jeff the Killer'. And that's exactly what Ophelia found he was, an _asshole_. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason for why he killed the people he did. He didn't have a type. The victims were of all genders, sexual orientations, ages, ethnicities. They didn't know their murderer, he usually came through windows- even if he had to break them. He didn't steal anything, or take any souvenirs. He killed because he _liked_ it.

What a dick face.

She knew she was getting close. A majority of the murders took place in a ten block radius, centering on what was considered by most to be the 'bad part of town'. She could of blindly guessed this outcome. But blindly guessing was not her job.

The street was dismal. In fact, the entire town was absolutely depressing. She silently pitied the people who lived there. Her shithole was nothing compared to the dilapidated abodes that lined the streets. The deeper she gets into this little neighborhood, the worse the houses get. And that is when she could smell it.

Rot. Death. Decay. It was sickly sweet in the most thoroughly disgusting way. It was all too familiar to the field agent.

Her eyes quickly located the source of the smell and she had to stop her gag reflex from making her spill her lunch. Dead animals were strung from trees and littered the lawn of one of the nearby houses. Mostly cats, but there were some birds and woodland rodents scattered about. They were ripped apart and slashed in the most gruesome of ways. Whoever did this obviously had anger issues.

Ophelia quelled her rolling stomach. She sat staring at the house for a long, long while. The sun was rapidly descending and her report was due before six am.

"Fuck." She said, before flipping on her camera and entering the house. This was going to have to happen if she wanted to avoid seeing her dear old boss man for another week. She takes a deep breath and starts forward.

"This is agent Mallory Asphodel, investigating P-SCP-3199, code name 'Jeff The Killer'. I have tracked his activities to a house three miles away from the abode Doctor LaBelle and I are stationed at. Exact coordinates will be listed in the completed report." Ophelia puts her hand on the doorknob to the house and steels herself before opening it. "I'm going in."

Within the decrepit domicile, Jeff stirs to the distant sounds of a door opening. He rises from his place on the couch and clenches the knife in his fist. Who dares to disturb him? Who was stupid enough to willingly walk into the place where they were to die? He chuckles as he imagines the look of shock and terror that would take hold of their face when he plunged his knife into their mouth and made them smile.

Something deep within Ophelia's gut alerts her of movement on the upper floors. Her back straightens and she casts a glance around the room, similar to a cat scanning the area with their ears at attention. She takes a look at the flashlight on her camera and decided to keep it off even though the room was growing rapidly darker.

Her eyes adjust to the low light levels rather quickly.

"Someone's in here." She whispered just loud enough for the camera to pick up. Her steps were slow and careful. She was extremely careful to make no noise. Even when she stepped upon a loose floorboard, she kept her feet light so the sound was muffled.

Jeffrey made his way down the stairs. He trailed the tip of his sharpened blade along the wall, allowing it to gouge an uneven line out of the plaster. Ophelia turned towards the stairs and, sensing that someone was coming, ducked into the kitchen. Her breathing had picked up, but she calmed it rather quickly. This might not even had been her target. She could have been scared for no reason. But when she saw that ghastly face in the darkness, she knew it was him.

Part of her was attracted to what most would considered an ugly mug. She always had an attraction to the macabre and the monstrous. However, the smell of decay that emanated off of his facial scars was enough to turn her off.

Jeffery would frown if the scarring didn't prevent his lips to move downwards. The shadows of the room bore no signs of life, and the shadows were the only thing he was able to see anymore. His ears did not pick up the young woman's heavy breathing, nor any other sounds. Logic only dictated that she was no longer in the living room, but he did not hear the door close again. He moved around the room, checking closets before rounding on the kitchen. Just as he entered it, fully confident in the thought that she must be in there, Ophelia ducked out. She lunged forward and back into the living room, reaching for her own knife that was still tucked away safely in a sheath on her belt.

"There you are~" The burned man smiled wide. He had seen and heard their movements. They could not escape now. "Why don't you come over here~? We can have a little fun! Trust me, I know what I'm talking about. And after the fun is done, you can go to sleep." His voice is gruff and laced with malice. It grew angrier the longer he spoke. The entire time he was creeping closer to her. His shoulders were bent forward, but he was still startling taller than her. He lunged forward quite suddenly. Ophelia dropped her camera in the rush to both jump backwards and unsheath her own knife. Their blades collided in a ridiculous defense maneuver, and she couldn't help but smirk at her own luck.

"Ooh~ Feisty~ I like that." Jeff countered. He pulled backwards and lunged forward again.

He stabbed towards her sloppily. Once again, Ophelia was able to block. She jumped backwards, holding her athame above her head. "Don't you usually go for the sleeping sort?"  
"They're always awake when I make them pretty."

The two began to circle one another. Neither wanted to lunge forward, but the longer their stare down continued the more antsy Jeff became. He lunged forward yet again. His knife lead, followed by his entire body. The blade stabbed into her hip. Her scream got caught in her throat when he body checked her into a wall.

"Fucking bastard." She spits. She had not lost grip of her own dagger and she brought it down, catching his shoulder.

He grunted in pain and threw the young woman to the floor. Jeff expected her to leave the knife, but she held fast and wrenched her blade with her. This got a genuine scream out of him.

A line split the skin of his shoulder like a budding flower. The blade was wavy and so the cut was ragged. Ophelia attempted to scramble to her feet, but the boy jumped at her. He grabbed onto her leg and pulled her back onto the floor with him. Panic swelled in her chest. She tried to pull her legs upward and kick him off, she tried to elbow him, she flailed beneath him with all her might and he was still able to pin her arms down.  
"Go. To. Sleep." Jeff raised a knife above her head, pinning her down with one arm. Spit and blood dripped onto her face from the smile carved into his own. She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply,

And _screamed_.

The wall behind them exploded in a torrent of rubble and dust. The killer turned to look at whatever caused the commotion. Ophelia swiftly headbutted him in the jaw. Her legs finally worked their way beneath him and she kicked him off of her before scrambling to her feet and running.  
She left behind her camera, didn't bother to watch her path through the brush, and refused to look behind her. The angered screech from within the house gave her cue enough that that bastard was following her. She had just about forgot her own wound, but the adrenaline didn't last long. Soon she was clutching her side, slowing to a painful pace. There was water before her. A lake or a pond, she had no clue. What was even the distinction anyway?  
"YOU CAN'T RUN FOREVER, BITCH!" The killer's voice was far too close for comfort.

Swimming with an open wound did not sound like the best option, but it might have been safer to dive into the water for a bit. Certainly she could hold her breath for longer than it took for him to get bored. Couldn't she?

It was too late for her to rationalize this any further. Movement in the foliage nearby pushed her into diving headfirst into ocean. She tried her damndest to stay close to the bottom, pushing deeper and deeper. She turned to face upwards, ignoring the stinging in her eyes.  
The world is silent under the water. Everything is distorted and muffled. She closes her eyes for a second, taking in the moment of peace before the adrenaline kicks in again.

Something grabs her neck. Ophelia's eyes slam open and she opens her mouth in attempt to scream. Water rushes into her lungs and she sputters and flails under the water. More limbs wrap around her. It felt as if she was held in a choke hold.  
She cursed herself for panicking so easy. Whatever was holding onto her was quickly dragging her downward at a rapid pace. Her struggling wasted what little air supply she had left and did little to deter what ever was drowning her.

 _'Maybe I'll haunt a video game when I die,'_ the thoughts were calm despite her precarious situation. _'Not majora's mask. Shit's scary enough.'_

She whipped her head backwards in a final display of desperation. Something let out a strangled cry but the vice had lifted and she was able to pull herself free. She made a beeline for the surface. The frigid air stung her face, but she could finally breath again. She didn't wait around to catch her breath. Shore was a priority. And locating that pasty asshole.

He was gone. Or at least, not visible from the gasping woman's vantage point. Truth be told, being hunched over on the sandy shore of an ink-dark lake was not the best position to be surveying the area with. She contemplated calling in backup but only realized how impossible that was, now that both herself and the entire contents of her bag and pockets were pulled into the water. It was a miracle something didn't electrocute her.

"Shit." She sputters after coughing up a steady stream of water. Her head whips towards the woods. The loud thrashing of who is no doubt her target can be heard. He's yelling for her, cursing up a storm. Ophelia snickers, and immediately dives into the forest. She doesn't care about the noise she's making- let the bastard follow.

Jeffery turned in her direction. He glared at the noises rapidly growing distant and took off after Ophelia with a scream. It wasn't hard to catch up with her.

Lia screamed when the blade connected with her side. Her eyes widened and flashed gold. For a split second she could swear she felt every single cell that made up her body. She felt the wound start to knit itself together even as the blade stayed inside. As quickly as the sensations came, it was gone. The field agent was left with the dulling ache in her side. Her breath was shallow, but she didn't seem to be bleeding out anymore.

Jeffrey grunted as he pulled his knife free- and it snapped. The handle snapped clean off the blade, leaving the metal lodged inside Ophelia's side. He yelled in anger and swung his fist in the direction of her face. It connected with the harsh sound of teeth on teeth. She spat blood at him and rushed forward. Her head connected with his chest and her arms wrapped around him.

Jeff was knocked against the tree and the air left his lungs. The field agent brought her knee upwards harshly. It connected with his crotch and he curled in on himself. She let his body fall to the ground and gave him an extra kick for good measure. More blood was pooling in her mouth, and she spat again.

The last things Jeff heard before a swift conk to the head rendered him unconscious was his 'catchphrase' spoken from the mouth of a very angry woman. "Go. To. Sleep."

Ophelia had left the bastard tied to a tree and limped her way home. Her body ached with open wound and natural exhaustion. She passed out on the floor next to the couch.


	3. Gravity

The party was in full swing. Classily dressed somebody's mingled over horderves and expensive wine. Forced laughs, forced smiles, and forced conversation filled the air.

Ophelia stands against a wall, watching everyone with dead eyes. Judas had touted her around like a pretty little pet all evening and then promptly fucked off somewhere, leaving the young woman to stand about awkwardly and swirl the wine in her glass. She groaned and scowled as a pang of pain shoots along her side from the stab wound she had incurred in her fight with the smiling murderer, and her healing wound did not much enjoy being shoved into spanx and heels.

She jumps when a hand wraps around her shoulder. Judas pulls her close, moving his hand from her shoulder to her waist.

"Could you at least try to look like you're enjoying yourself?" he asks through the clenched teeth of a tight smile. His fingers dance dangerously close to her stab wound and she suppresses the urge to inhale through her teeth. A knot forms in Ophelia's stomach.

She pulls a smile to her face. It matches the other girls' in the room; red lips, white teeth, dead eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm having the time of my life."

"Don't get smart with me, Mallory." she cringes at the use of that name but he takes no notice. "Think about the effect your dour expression could have on our reputation."

 _'Don't you mean your reputation'_ She thinks, but keeps her mouth shut. The night was already looking grim for her. "I'm sorry. I'll do better to manage my expressions."

"Good." Judas takes her chin in his hand and turns her head upward to face him. His smile softens, becoming genuine. As genuine as he could be, at least. "You're so beautiful. Far to pretty to frown."

Ophelia toys with the idea of spitting in his face and storming off, but she doesn't. Instead she swallows the lump in her throat and returns his affectionate gaze. "Love ya, daddy."

He kisses her, hand wrapping around her neck in a way that could make a girl swoon, but feels like a vice to the short woman. "I love you too." He pulls her by the neck into a kiss that smothers her. His lips taste of whiskey and cheap cigars. Her arms raise and wrap around his neck and she returns the kiss with as much passion and force as she can muster. She feels like a doll. A soulless husk controlled by someone else. Ophelia wasn't here right now, she was somewhere far away. Somewhere she could pretend this wasn't happening.

Even when he pulls away and looks right back into her eyes, he doesn't notice the absence of light. He lowers his hand, digging his thumb into the wound and causing the girl to bite her tongue until it bled. He lifted his hand to caress her cheek.

"That's a good girl." He coos, placing another kiss on her forehead. "Come sit with me. Have another drink."

Like clockwork she follows. She takes short, stable steps, like a lady. The dress felt constricting and her skin was on fire. She sits at his side, leaning into him, and allows him to slip a pill between her lips. It was for her nerves, he has said to someone who questioned. It numbed her, made her tired and compliant. She preferred it this way. Preferred when her head swam and the feeling dancing across her skin wasn't pain, but pleasure. It made the insufferable praise the bastard requested easier to give up, too.

Judas stewed on it for the rest of the night. Oh, sure, he smiled and talked with the other vapid elites, but in the back of his mind he saw the girl, _his_ girl standing against the wall. Her brow furrowed, her lips downturned. It burned him up inside. She was being rewarded for completing her last task and she had the audacity to not even enjoy it? She would pay for it later.

Ophelia did not start out the night with a limp, but by the time she entered the front door to her house the next afternoon she could barely hold herself up. She winced with every step, her ankle bending unnaturally each time she rested too much weight on it. Mascara stained her cheeks, a patch of hair was ripped from her scalp, and blood cracked and dried on her chin. She collapsed in the kitchen with her back against the wall. Her hands met her face and she allowed the tears to take her.


	4. Calling in the Squad

"Wake up." Her voice was completely monotonous. Ophelia shoved the window shades open and ripped the blanket away from Weston.

"Go fuck yourself." Came his polite reply.

"What, you mean like, here?" She asked, hands already snaking down her body and heading towards the button on her shorts. She got pelted with a pillow by the inhabitant of the bed and grinned.

"No! Stop. I'm getting up. Just keep your fucking pants on." Weston sat up in bed, avoiding looking at his friend just in case she continued to strip. He grabbed a shirt from the floor and pulled it on. "What are you gonna do to get me killed today, Ophelia?"

"Glad you think so highly of me, weasel," she said, following him out of the bedroom. "I'm not gonna get you killed. Buuuuuttt-"

"It's too early for thi-"

"I need back up."

"There it is!" he said promptly before slamming the bathroom door in her face.

Lia groaned and turned around. She slammed her back against the wall hard enough to shake it and sunk to the floor. "C'moooonnn, Wes!"

"No! Every time you drag me on a job I end up near dead and mentally scarred! I'm not going!"

"You don't even know where I'm going!"

"I know you well enough to know that doesn't matter. Why doesn't that psycho roommate of yours ever go with you?"

"Marie is a scientist. Not a field agent."

"So?!" the sound of a water beating against the plastic tub nearly blocked out everything he was saying. "Look, ima go take a shower. You're welcome to fuck off on whatever venture your death fetish has gotten you interested in, but I'm staying home."

Lia paused. "I brought breakfast."

Weston's sigh was audible even through the door. "We'll talk over breakfast."

Rin had heard the commotion but bided his time in his darkened room. He listened as Lia's footsteps retreated back into the kitchen. His slightly pointed ears had twitched and his entire body leaned closer to the door. It was only when he heard the legs of a chair scraping across the floor that he actually felt safe enough to go great the girl. He made his way through the halls and into the kitchen to join her for breakfast. There was a pot of coffee on the table and a bag full of breakfast related goodies from a local fast food joint. He retrieved a donut and a breakfast sandwich from the bag and sat across from Lia.

Lia merely nodded when he entered the room. Her foot tapped rapidly against the ground and she snapped the edge of her arm warmers anxiously, looking towards the entryway to the kitchen. She'd barely even touched the food. Rin casually pushed the bag of sandwiches towards his friend. She readily took the bait, eating one so fast that it didn't even look like she tasted it. She was about to start in on another one when Weston finally came into the room.

"Took you long enough." She muttered. He rolled his eyes and wordlessly filled a paper plate with a stack of doughnuts and sandwiches.

"So, where are we going?" He said, halfway through his first sandwich.

"Canada." Ophelia replied with a mouth full of food. Weston almost choked.

"Canada?!" He exclaimed. "You're dragging us to fucking Canada?!"

She frowned, took the cap off her paper coffee cup, and downed the scalding contents. Weston just stared, disbelieving expression still plastered onto his face. "Yeah." She muttered. "It's not like I had much to say in the matter. Wait-" her face brightened considerably as she realized what he just said. "You're coming with me?"

Weston sighed. A small, tired smile settled on his face and he nodded. "Well, I can't let you die alone. Besides, I'm half convinced you'll get lost in the snow."

Ophelia launches herself across the table, knocking some of the food to the floor, and throws her arms around him. "You're the best nerd a gal could ask for."

"Sure. Right." He shrugged off the affection, laughing uncomfortably. Later he would regret this decision and he knew that in his gut, but for now the smile on the face of his roommate and best friend gave him peace of mind.

In less than an hour, they had eaten, dressed, and packed the car. Ophelia sat in the passenger's seat. She was pouring over a rather hefty manilla folder. Coffee rings stained the cover and it was torn about the edges. Weston wasn't ready to question it. He just sat behind the wheel, turned the radio on, and set off for the border.


	5. On The Road Again

The sun traversed the sky over the course of the long, long car ride. It wasn't the longest they had ever been on but it certainly wasn't the shortest, either. They were roughly three hours in. For about an hour of that, none of them were aware of the time that had passed. They couldn't even remember what had played on the radio, although they all distinctly remembered singing along to at least one song.

Ophelia had been drifting off. Her elbow rested on the door, and her cheek rested on her hand. Every so often, Weston could see her head nod forward in his peripheral vision. He grinned. It was a pleasant reminder that she was still human.

She was pulled fully awake when she felt the car veer off the road. They had arrived at a bus station. A way point. Rin's eyes barely glanced up from his handheld, but Ophelia's brow furrowed. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and turned to look at Weston. "Why are we stopping?"

"I need to piss."

Ophelia rolled her eyes. "Couldn't hold it?" She muttered.

"We're only like, halfway there. We still have a good three hours." He shut the car door to prevent his friend from protesting any further. He got a good few steps away before the tell tale sign of the passenger door opening and closing hits his ears. He stops in his tracks and emits the quietest of sighs.

"I want snacks." She muttered, pulling a wad of bills from her pocket. "Maybe a cinnabon." The two of them walk, silently, into the stop.

In a far corner stood a woman. Really, she was part of a pair of women, but she was the only one that stood out at that moment. Her attire was military fatigues and a gas mask was worn askew, giving the side of her head another face. Her skin was a dark brown color, but it seemed less than alive. A gray undertone tainted once bright and vibrant skin.

Ophelia made uncomfortable eye contact with the figure. Millions of thoughts entered their mind at once. This person couldn't have been human, could she? Not in the SCP agents mind. Everything slightly abnormal was no doubt supernatural in nature. Could they be a hamster? No, no, vampire. Hamsters are small fuzzy animals, and this person was taller than Ophelia(which, admittedly, wasn't a hard thing to be) and remarkably furless. She begun to wonder where she got the word hamster from and had to physically stop her mind from wandering. Her eyebrow twitched. Ophelia shook her head and moved onward to collect the small box of baked, sticky goodness.

The woman with the gas mask watched Ophelia with coal black eyes. If anyone were to look close enough, they'd see a ring of brown just outside the extremely dilated pupil. In a chair beside her sat another woman. This woman was once pale, but she bore a tan. She sat with her legs spread and sipped at a soft drink. "That the broad we're lookin for?" She asked, jerking her head in Ophelia's direction.

The standing woman nodded. She was silent for a long moment, but slowly she speaks. "I think." If the dead could speak, the tone they used would probably sound like the flat one that exited her mouth.

The sitting one snorts. "Heh, how many other people out there look like her?" She lifts a hand, letting the l shape that her thumb and forefinger creates frame Ophelia. "She's so tiny. There isn't a lot of people that small, is there?"

The other nodded. This prompted their sitting companion to pull themselves into a standing position. They stretched, groaning softly. "Welp, best we go eaves drop a little and find out where they're going, huh?"

Another nod was all the blonde got in response. She frowned and popped a stick of gum in their mouth before moving closer to their target.

Ophelia ordered her cinnabon without issue. She vaguely felt the eyes of a stranger on her, but brushed it off as someone checking her out. She was more distracted by the sickeningly sweet goodness contained within the flimsy cardboard box. She ate as she walked, stabbing at it haphazardly with a fork before deciding to risk the stickiness and use her hands.

Weston nearly collided with her. He wasn't looking down, but across the room. He trips backwards and catches himself. "There you are. Get everything you wanted?"

"Yah." Lia responded around a mouth full of half chewed food. Weston rolled his eyes and chuckled. "I'm gonna grab some drinks. Coke okay?"

Lia swallows and nods. "Yeah. Thanks. I'll be in the car."

Both young adults turn to walk off, but Ophelia suddenly turns on her heel and shouts. "Yo! How long till Canada?"

Weston's eyes flit upwards and he checks his watch. "Ehhh, about three hours? Maybe two and a half?"

Lia nods and gives a small, two fingered salute to her friend.

The mysterious duo followed her out of the facility, but they sat themselves on a bench outside it. The blonde lit up a cigarette and trained her eyes on the approaching thunderheads. "Canada, eh?" They snickered.

"It would seem so." They're eyes followed the girl to the car.

The blonde took a long drag and exhaled slowly. They enjoyed the silence for now. The question of how they planned to follow their target crossed their mind, but she was sure that her partner would come up with someone. So for now she relaxed.

The first rain drop hit Weston as he left the awning overlooking the benches. It was large and thick. He groaned in exasperation and booked it to the car.


End file.
